


No Love

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: The Binding of Isaac (Video Game)
Genre: Cults, Drabble, Evisceration, Eye Trauma, Gore, Human Sacrifice, Light Scat, Other, Skinning, flaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As everything once was, Brigitta was born a human being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Love

The blade pressed to her forehead, and she had promises to make.

"Do you give offer your filthy human soul to the depths?"

"Yes."

"Will you allow God and the devil to fight for your spirit?"

"Yes."

"If your heart no longer beats until your final moment, do you renounce your ghost to the fiery pits?"

"Yes."

"Then let the sacrifice begin."

The little tip slid down her nose, over the bridge and across the very center of her lips. The cut ran to her neck, circled around, and split through her hairline, a soft crimson tinting her scalp and blonde follicles. Her eyelashes dripped with light gore, landing on the floor with barely audible "plip" noises like a misty, scarlet drizzle.

Flesh peeled off of musculature in a thick layer, leaving her scalp bare and crimson red. Her shroud was pulled down and pale, skeletal figure stuck out into the afternoon air. An ambiguous race mix with pigment melted away at birth, but when peeled away she looked the same as everyone else. With no flesh she was like every other girl her age, and chest fat, and intestine. She was beautiful.

Her crotch was vaguely trimmed, uneven, and now gone, simply musculature strung along bone. A red-and-white sight for sore eyes, slicing under her armpit and flaying away more of her body's covering. The bared muscle ended around her hands, which were violently chopped off and thrown to the wayside. Cleanly flayed, a beautiful skeleton with no hand or foot remaining.

She was still alive - she was a miracle. They cut her down along her spinal cord and butt as she laughed, bleeding out everywhere. She was so happy to inherit the crown of the queen, to be given the throne of the broken skeleton, to be carrion for the ravens passing through.

A silver spoon was glazed with her cornea's dew, slipping into her eye socket and ejecting the optic organ from its rightful place. A pale blue, pristine iris was cast towards the ceiling and sprung from the hole, dangling on a lengthy cord. As her other eye still stayed in place, they pulled away strips of muscle, long and flat like massive pieces of bacon. They piled up, mat upon mat of sinews making a red stack on the grounds.

Their gloved hands reached into her skeleton, ripping out gushy intestines and dropping them on the floor. Her heart was still pounding as her pelvis leaked red and brownish over the concrete, her body emptying one organ at a time, bones surrounded with some disturbing combination of blood and shit. Everything was removed from her very existence and she was now a mere skeleton.

Tongue, eye, lungs, and her still pumping heart in their hands. Warm, soft. Her body was taken apart. All that remained was skull, torso, and brain.

-

She could not see, but she could hear. Her bony head pressed to the floors, limbless body cold and seeking touch. She was a beautiful abnormality, she was. The skeletal torso who once had a name inched across the floor, excreting a bloody mess of half-eaten insects and human flesh as she walked. When the sound of shoes clacking to the ground crawled through her brain.

"What the...Are you a creature of the devil?!" A woman's screeching voice echoed throughout the necropolis. Only a bit of flesh and nerve remained on her backside, and she could feel the stranger prodding it some. She was a human being, with human hands.

The queen clattered her teeth together in an attempt to communicate. 

"What are you?"

She didn't know. She really didn't know. The woman didn't see any point in trying to communicate, but she wanted to talk. She hadn't spoken to anyone in months, even years, she was dying from the loneliness, it was driving her absolutely mad. Her head rose up, and if she still had a face, she would smile. If she had eyes, she would look at this woman with utmost respect, but she didn't even know what that woman looked like.

"If my son comes down here," The woman began. "he'll be crying, and I don't care what it takes, I want you to eat him. Kill him."

She nodded.

"I'm Mary. If you succeed, maybe you're the one blessed to be my true child." Her heels clattered down the stairs to the lower floor. The words resounded in her little skull. She hadn't had a mother in a long time. She hadn't been loved in a very, very long time. She hadn't heard a voice or been touched or given any attention in an amount of time longer than she could ever be considered human.

She would not fail. The Carrion Queen does never fail.


End file.
